


Whispers and Guns

by xmy_stone_cold_heartx



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 16:12:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14855981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xmy_stone_cold_heartx/pseuds/xmy_stone_cold_heartx
Summary: Set shortly after John Wick: Chapter Two, where we see John running out of the park from Winston with the promise "I'll kill them all" still fresh on his lips.With the time ticking down and without refuge, John is hopeless and lost until a mysterious woman in white comes to the aid of John, offering more than just sanctuary.





	1. The Things We Hide From

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is part of a series so please give it a chance, and don't forget to leave Kudos xx  
> The song to this piece is Paloma Faith's "Guilty"

_Following John Wick: Chapter Two-_

_After returning home, the following day, John was asked to come the park where Winston informed him that his bounty of $7 million had been doubled by the camorra and The High Table- now international._  
_He was informed that he was now excomunicado, however, John was given one hour to prepare and is provided a Marker for future use._  
_At first, John casually walked away from Winston but after hearing cell phone after cell phone ring, he realized the danger he was in and the urgency to prepare for what came next._  
_Wick started to run, but the Bowery Boys were tracking him…_

\- I’ve been a criminal,  
I made a mistake,  
Lived in the fictional and let everything slip away,  
I can’t except my fate.  
Thought the alternative looked so crystal clear,  
drowned in the muddy water and I’m living in my worst fears,  
begging you back through tears  
...  
sit here all alone, my defence is down  
Wishing I could be home  
But I'm locked out and it's my fault

Thought I would be okay without you and I  
Now that I realize it was all just an awful lie  
Take me back, I might die

And I got the scars, if you're talking 'bout hurting yourself  
Baby, I'm guilty as hell  
...

  
…

CHAPTER ONE “John, right?" A head of dark black hair was bent downwards, showing his neat parting (god knows how) as if in prayer. Lord knows he needs one.

He straightened at her voice peaking between the sound of running water in the nearby fountain that frothed at the brim.

Wick flared his nostrils exhaling. "Excuse me?" Though by his tone he clearly didn't care for anything she had to say.

"Your name is John, isn't it?" "Mr. Wick" he corrects still looking at the ground. That was John, sophisticated to the end.

Well this is the end- for him anyway.

" gotcha"

John turned up his eyes at her "have we met?" he wore suspicion, with impatience and distrust gleaming in his pupils. Since the bounty, everyone wants a bit of John Wick-he'll put this expression to good use. Good luck trusting again, John. If she was going to kill him, he wished she’d just get on with it.

"You did once"

"Excuse me" he repeats getting up from the park bench he'd been sat on for ten minutes, clumsily pushing past her. Too tired for mind games. From afar she had noticed his face crumble before putting his head in his hands as if he had given up hope. A dangerous thing.

“A man who thought he'd lost all hope loses the last additional bit of hope he didn't even know he still had”.

Now where did she hear that? She can't remember. At first, she tried guilt. "Wait. Please " she said quietly looking at the ground.

He stops in his tracks, quick strides ceasing to a halt as he turned back, peering at her over his shoulder.

"I- I can help" as if by magic she produced a shiny, gleaming coin-like shaped object. A marker, a scuffed and beaten thing.

The oh-so- familiar carving of flowers and skulls brought sick to Wick's stomach as it had only been a matter of hours since he'd seen his last one. He wanted rid of the cursed things once and for all.

"Nobody can help" he says warily peering at the face of the mysterious woman- no girl by the looks of her , though it’s hard behind the black sunglasses at the end of her nose despite the drawing darkness- feeling nothing tired and frustrated. She looked incredibly young, hair black and shiny. Her face was heart shaped and naturally tanned from what he could see, her nude lips pursed over and over in thought. Something inside him clicked, something in her face, in her tone of voice felt as though a chord has struck inside him. _Where have I seen you before?_

He was just as alien to her, the infamous assassin standing before her all glassy eyed and bleeding isolation with a coldness only a glacier could have. His suit was ragged and torn at the edges, all black- even his shirt, maybe that was to hide the blood.

Knowing John, there's sure to be a gun tucked in a holster by his pants by the way his left hand kept flinching near it. He could shoot her at any point before she had time to register it.

Then, she tried tactics " you can be relieved of the bounty" .

The coin gleamed and shimmered in the light as she held it out promisingly in her palm.

"I can help you "

"No" he says, disgusted by the object. He'd been caught up in too many deals, too many loop holes.

"I'm your last hope, Mr. Wick" she points out. Shifting her weight nervously, she touches her own jacket pocket to graze her fingers over the weapon she had loaded earlier just in case. _Come on, John, don't make me do this._

She met his eyes "the only one who doesn't want the bounty" she added quietly.

What was she not telling him?

He stresses a sigh "go home" the patience dripping from him. "I don't deal with juveniles" with that he continues to move away, "now leave me alone" towards the ashen blonde sunlight that was soon to disappear into purples and pinks of the evening.

Through desperation she calls out after him, "John? " hoping it will turn things around. She hadn't planned it to be as difficult as this.

_Goddamit, John, why has it always gotta be this way?_

With a heavy heart- most likely because of the risk she was putting herself in- she dips into her inside pocket on her jacket and pulls out the one thing she swore she'd never use again after the last time, but he was the one who brought this on, not her, never her.

Once again, the troubled man stops and squares his shoulders rigid, she was beginning to grate on him, this girl. As he turns he lets out a low sarcastic and condescending chuckle when he sees what lies in her grasp. "For god-" he begins but is cut off as she pulled down the hammer to cock the gun.

He knows his time is almost up. "One hour" Winston had warned him. Any minute now, someone, somewhere will find him, even death has its last day, and John was defenseless now that his own gun was empty.

He had to make a marker deal. He had to.

Finally, she used blackmail. Okay, have it your way. "I'm sorry" She murmured looking sincerely apologetic "either you come with me now, or I shoot you myself" she held it up to aim at his chest, where his heart- if he had one- is, she was a good shot. She'd been taught well after all.

All was silent except for the rustling of the leaves high above them as night drew nearer. Far away, a solitary bird chirps, all alone, nobody to hear him.

"You can't blackmail me into trading markers" he said finally "How do I know you won't use it against me like Santino? I'll be your slave ".

He meets her eyes searching for something to give herself away. She was a good actress but she wasn't that good, she had traces of fear across her face and lines of betraying sleepless nights. She didn't want this, it was obvious, so what did she want? Her implicit intentions were unnerving.

The girl could smell death wafting from him as he silently made up his mind.

She shook her head. "I won't. " as she began to lower her aim, "I promise...I don't want to kill you, John" She handed him the baroque case which he opened. Sternly he gazed at her. In his snarl he spoke:

"Then what do you want?"

Pause...

"To get you home"

After a moment of understanding where they each stood, after finally constructing a deal of which they were both partly happy.


	2. We All Lose Somebody

_flash back- change in p.o.v- days before John Wick (1):_

_Before I had time to yell out in mercy, the hammer came down with a crack on my knee cap. I cried out in agony, lolling in the chair I am bound to. l long to clutch my leg to my chest, my right eye (probably black and blue by now) pulsing and I felt the blood rushing in my ears- I was going to pass out. The hammer was dropped against the floor with a thud as he dusted down his hand, pulling out a handkerchief from his suit pocket to wipe them._

  
_There were scornful remarks in foreign tongues I could partly make out; I’m shoved upwards to sit up again- face slapped to stop my heavy body blacking out._  
_The two men that accompanied him had seemed to grow within the hour, bumping them up to six. So it seemed that everyone had come to see me be beaten to a pulp, something I was ill-famed for experiencing._

  
_One word I could make out through the foreign exchange though:_  
_“Again”_

  
_And again it was. The third round this morning since I’d been cornered and captured last night._

  
_Luckily for me, my other eye stayed intact so at least I knew when the pain was coming- the blow to my collar bone made up for this mistake. It ached as I watched him pace up and down. Panicking probably, deciding what to do next, he didn’t show it though, keeping stony-faced._

_Just when I thought it was over for another round, he beckoned one of the men to bring him the hammer once more. Once in his tight grip, he pulled the hammer up and placed the butt of it on my right knee. He crouched before me mockingly. I could fight back, hell, these ropes weren’t exactly strong. A right hook across his cheek, break his nose maybe, but the small sensible part of me took over for once and I stayed put still writhing from anguish._

_“This can be over as soon as you want” Viggo rumbled, face inches from my own, his hooded olive eyes stared in my one, flicking from the hammer end to my face “tell me where she is, and we’ll stop”._

_I gulped back the lump in my throat. Somehow, I managed a shit-eating grin though even smiling pained me. “No”. I shook my head. The Russian man stood from his crouching with a deep frown... I was sure as hell going to regret this but his infuriation and frustration that he couldn’t get me to crack made it all worth it._  
_He sighed cynically raising both arms in the air as if surrendering. “Very well”. His eyes met mine as he took his handkerchief once more to stuff it in my mouth to muffle the scream. He recoiled; shifting the weight of the hammer from hand to hand, admiringly._

_I bent my knee so it would be a clean cut at least, sucking in my panting breath for a second despite the clothe in my mouth. It would be over soon, surely._  
_He lifted the hammer up and brought it down with swift movement, a dull crack ripped through the air and I bit down fiercely on the material, the metallic taste flooding through my gums._  
_Viggo subtracted the cloth now covered in sloppy blood and I spat on the floor._

_I let out an unearthly moan through bloodied teeth and slumped forward, internally begging to pass out of at the very least, die. Just end this pain. Shamefully, I squeezed my eyes shut, disgusted by the single tear that had time to skate down my cheek. At least now they knew they couldn’t yield anything from me after all._

_One particularly shifty man grabbed my collar to position my back. I could feel the tremble in his hand. Another took the hammer from Viggo._

_He was never going to stop until I cracked. From his reputation, fractured knee caps were a good day, a bad day was your brains on the floor. We both knew I was the only one with the knowledge of what he wanted-he couldn’t kill me even if he desperately desired to. Too bad, Tarasov. It looked like I was going to be around for a while._

_I allowed myself to control my puffs and look up at Viggo through the parting in the curtain of my hair under hooded eyes, fronting that though half my body was crumbling inside me, I was unfazed. He’d have to do better than that._

_Viggo raised a hand high in the air like a composer awaiting the pause for the next chorus of the song. Silence zipped through the air. It never ceased to fascinate me how he held their attention like dogs to sticks. He began to wave them each away. One by one, the men of the bunch began to leave, until it was just him and I._

_The atmosphere was tight. I could even feel my bones grind beneath me and I sit defiantly, refusing feebleness. The abuser sucked his teeth, tutting as though I was a school child drawing on the walls with crayons again._ <

_“How many times are we going to do this? Hmmm?” he swept an arm through the air indicating the amount of times we had been in this situation. The answer to his question was of course, until he let me leave- really leave with the thing I wanted most, her. I wanted out. Apparently, thieving his leverage over the city and burning property wasn’t enough to let me go as he too desired her. He needed to be taught a lesson. A lesson I had already constructed in my mind._

_I smirked my reply though the truth was my mouth throbbed too much to form functioning words._

_“I’ll give you time to think it through...” he tugged on his overcoat, fishing for a cigar from a tin in his pocket raking his eyes over me, relishing it. His portrayal was another persona when he was alone. Funny how it’s always the villains who show their true colours. He exited._

_The steel door closed with finality. I let out a long agonising breath but return to quick pants due to my pain now I can let it all out. My arm slips out through the ropes I was bound against to peel my shirt from my skin. The blood soaks it to my side. I gritted my teeth tearing away the shirt further My fingers trace the wounds and dents, they trace my ribcage. I have a punctured lung._

_I slip the other arm out, with the broken collar bone, it’s difficult but I manage to awkwardly bend/stand from the chair I had been a human punchbag in for over 24 hours._  
_Unsurprisingly, my legs give way under the stress of the fractured patellar and I collapse to the stone floor._

_I lay, clutching at the side of my head blood drying on my hands whilst I held my ear trying to stop the bleeding. I’d still had it worse though. I wasn’t done yet._

_Three visible sash windows. Each heavily guarded outside no doubt, cameras and men weaponized everywhere, unfortunately Viggo was far more popular than I was, nobody likes a successful assassin on there backs, least of all Viggo. Heck, he had a few up his sleeve. Still no match for me. I smiled weakly at this notion._

_I lay there, drifting in and out of consciousness, blood spilling and drying in a viscous cycle. I blacked out long enough to dream. It was beautiful. But it wasn’t real._  
_There was a house on the cliffs, and a girl, barely a woman, sitting on the balcony, her head tilted back, and eyes closed enjoying the breeze the wind swept up into her chocolate hair. I’d warned her countless times how stupidly dangerous it was to do this, how many times she could easily fall to her death, and that there was a perfectly good chair to sit on, but as always, I could never stay mad. Not now._

_Hating to disturb the little peace she had I still padded gently onto the balcony, smirking “hey”. She slits an eye open tilting further back. I lived for moments like these, sometimes on bad days when she was being difficult, i often hoped she'd fall. After all, it was her fault, it was all her fault._

_I slid up to her, “I missed you” I nudged her. Truth rang in my words. Fortunately, you can’t cry in dreams, unfortunately, you can feel the pain. Feel loss._  
_It’s always the same dream I experience each time I close my eyes. It usually takes me a few minutes to realise this is not reality probably from the ocean behind her that is frozen in time, or that the house the balcony belongs to is half missing and disorientated, and so I know what happens next. This is just my mind playing back an old photograph taken of us when we were kids. I feel a heaviness in my heart trying to get the words out fast enough._

_“Isabelle” I say wanting to get the words out quickly taking her hands. “I’m so sorry. I-”_

_But Dream Isabelle still beams making a shiver run down my spine. She murmurs something, but it gets distant and to this day I still never, never hear it. And that was the last time I saw her._

_Upon drifting back into reality, I hear the chilling sound of the door creaking open and then quick footsteps. Round four here I come. Here I lie, remembering why I’m doing this, for her. So I stay still awaiting the drag to the chair were I’ll sit with black eyes and split lips._

_The knuckles of a cold hand tap my cheek stirring me._  
_“Wake up” rasped, ricocheting off the bare walls. A man’s voice. Impassive. I could only attempt to sit up, head lolling. But it wasn’t Viggo, it was someone else. I don’t bring myself to look at the face, I keep my eyes low, mostly because of the pain._

_My burst lip spat “Don’t…”, shaking my leaden head. It ready for the darkness to succumb me once again. I half expected a sharp smack against my cheekbone but there was nothing but far, far dull breathing._  
_One hand poised under my chin and tilted my head this way and that, but my eyes began to droop. Another hand rested opposite the other as if prepared to throttle me. But they didn’t. Instead they slipped off. With difficulty I feel arms gather under my own to partially drag me across the floor where I’m heaved back steadily onto the chair like a small child’s rag doll being prepared for the eternal game of tea parties. The tea being equivalent to punches._

_The source of the voice crouched in front of me as my captor had done only moments before. His intentions were not evil or menacing._  
_I didn’t fully understand such a simple action. Nobody had ever shown me mercy let alone kindness, which he blatantly showed as he was articulate and gentle, reaching behind the chair for the rope to re-tie me as though I’d never moved as I lay possibly bleeding to death._

"I'll be back".

_After that, I must have passed out because before I knew it, I woke to the moon’s light shining through the window panes. Still, nobody came._  
_Three days went by and soon, I wasn't sure what was real and what was fantasy._

_It was deep midnight on the third day of captivity when he came to me once more; my saviour._  
_I’d been proud of my life so far. I’d never had to rely on anybody ever in my life, not even my own parents, so receiving the help given my diverse situation was alien to me; and extremely frustrating._

_I knew it was him from his gait and walking pace. One of my not-so-useless talents was detecting difference in footsteps and tone. His were furtive and fast making him stand out from the mouth-breathing heavy- footed cavemen that came to and fro to check I was still barely breathing once in a blue moon. It seemed as though Viggo’s interest in Isabelle had wavered which both alarmed me and gave me peace of mind at the same time._

_He stood before me and I jumped at how suddenly he was across the room. The darkness did not help to calm me in his presence, but he radiated something powerful, call it trust or straight up honesty in his actions, something I could also detect. Maybe it was useful at times then…_

_I sat in silence and reeled in anticipation._

_One hand came rest on my knee I felt pain serge through me as the space, where the bone was supposed to be wobbled, was clenched between a thumb and forefinger. I winced sucking in breath “patellar fracture” I identified spitting on the floor. A clean, two-piece break._

_The voice turned into a body and a body turned into a man._

_It stayed quiet, so silent that I could hear the cogs turning in his mind. I, of course, was too beaten and tired mentally and physically to help myself, what I normally do. Unless Isabelle was here, but something inside me told me there would be no more rescue missions from her. I needed to find her._

_Finally he spoke, “think you can walk?” I nod. Before I know it, one arm strongly, hauled me up carefully._

_From how often I seemed to drift in and out of authenticity, it was hard to tell if this was real, him, a good Samaritan of a stranger helping me, a punchbag who took beatings for a ghost of a girl she dreamed of more than she saw._

_Like lightening, his movements were furtive before I could stand properly, he had a strong grip on my forearms to lift me to my feet. I wobbled, and his arm tucked itself under my own so I was in a human crunch position._

_Time came to a stand-still, there’s nostalgic taste of metal in the air, I can’t keep up with the action of our synced movements. I don’t even question his aid. Didn’t he know who I was? It doesn’t matter. If he did he’d probably kill me._

_I glance down to see the trail of blood I’ve created when a gun notably tucked in a holster by his pants catches my attention. The hand around my waist has split knuckles worn down by bruising and blood. My heart skips a beat._

_We reach the door after what feels like an eternity. I don’t recognise the corridor, but then I was unconscious at the time. “Wait” I command catching my breath. Holding myself up, even with his help was proven difficult. I needed rest for a little while…_

_The end of the corridor seemed to clang as many feet began to snap against the metallic staircase coming closer and closer towards us._

_He grabs my wrist and tugs me into a blind spot opposite, holding me closer than I was comfortable with, due to limited space if we wanted to keep hidden._

_I hiss in disagreement, though it would be stupid to try to run now. We dart behind the corner awaiting the footsteps and laughing to reach us. The awkwardness provoked a blush from me. He doesn’t notice putting his back to the wall and turning his head away from me to accurately listen for the closing in noises._

_In the different, brighter light in the corridor, I can finally make out his face; youthful. For a man, he is quite attractive, I suppose, a face shaped and angular, chiselled away by cheekbones and thick dark hair swept back dramatically. He seems too soft looking to sinister intention but perhaps that was the idea. I of all people should know not to judge too quickly- just look at Viggo, he’s not exactly a bundle of kittens. His midnight ink hair grazed his forehead each time he twitched his head._  
_The corner has a small gap we’re tucked into, therefore we are not directly exposed to the people walking past us. Undetected, we wait for them to leave and it’s not long before we tackle the stairs._  
_We both rake our eyes down the two flights of stairs doubtfully. Walking/hobbling was just fine but actually bending my knees? I wasn’t so sure. From the puzzling look on his face I could tell he was thinking the same._  
_He begins to take the stairs down but thinks twice, raising an eyebrow at my quivering knees, and I’m not shaking under the pain, I’m going to pass out._  
_“I’m good. I’m good” I puff easing myself down the first step of at least thirty. I count down in my head rebuffing to give into the burning in my lungs and clawing pain in my legs._  
_He hops back up the couple of steps to meet me at the top. Upon doing so, it seems my great escape had been discovered as a chorus of hollering and exchange of raised voices ricocheted off the walls._  
_“We don’t have time for this” he mumbles. I don’t register his meaning properly or argue before he sighs with temporary struggle as I’m momentarily dipped to my horror, so my hair brushes the floor and my back splays across a rough shoulder to hold me in a bridal carry. I squirm kicking at what little movement I had, as he placed his arms under my gathered knees and around my back; lifting me off the ground altogether. My hands tremble and unclench as I grit my teeth damning my weakness._  
_“Don’t be ridiculous” I mumble already sensing the oh-so-familiar ambition to sleep . I feel stupid just being held there in his arms, I can’t imagine I’m exactly light._  
_Feet barrelling down the hallway, presumably off to tell Daddy of myfaçade. My skin itches at the material of clothing scrubbing against my shoulder blades from the bobbing up and down of bustling movement. My mind was slowing down as if intoxicated, my breathing shallowed sleepily._

_Like Hansel and Gretel with breadcrumbs I leave a long, long line of drying blood, I’m almost certain I’ve lost over two pints, but in the underworld hospital is never an option, either bleed out and die or get on with it._  
_With superhuman strength, we somehow managed to make it down the flight of steps undetected. As soon as we reached the bottom I was both incredibly embarrassed and ready for a fight if necessary. Nobody dares forces me into aid and gets away with it, just you wait Viggo._  
_He lets me down with some easy, careful to avoid sensitive areas such as my ribs. As soon as I stand alone, I suddenly wish I hadn’t been so resentful towards the carry now I feel the full burden of walking._  
_Walking adjusts to a jog I can’t maintain but I’d rather die here without kneecaps then ever face a bridal lift again. I’m beginning to feel irritated at the amount of times he snatches my wrist to pull me along like an infant and on the fourth time I tug it back and will myself to carry on._  
_It was all going to shit. All of it. My original plan had gone up in smoke. Except it hadn’t because that was the plan. To set fire to the Tarasov’s biggest stash hideout, with the one thing he cared more about than money burning alongside it; his son._  
_Isabelle would be so ashamed of playing damsel in distress. Come to think of it, she’s always ashamed, ashamed of me, my (old) waitressing job and my choices._  
_“Stop…stop” I huff giving into the lack of oxygen. Irritated he comes to a halt._  
_“What are you waiting for” as if on que there’s a loud clanging echoing down the stairs, they are not far behind us now, there’s definitely more than six. “Come on!”_  
_I dig into my blazer inside pocket maintaining eye contact “Thanks for the lift; but I don’t work well in teams” from the pocket I withdraw a gun, the same one he had in his holster moments ago. They don’t call me El Silencio for nothing. He detects this and feels where the gun had once been and frowns. “You don’t want to do this” he warned not even looking at the gun; holding out his hand for it anyway._  
_“I’m going solo on this one” I aim at his forehead, if he knows who I am, he knows I won’t miss. I never miss. Begrudgingly he raises his arms. “You’ll never make it out alone”._  
_I roll my eyes and clicking it into place._  
_“Let me pass or I’ll just shoot you now”._  
_He smirks “go ahead”_  
_Irritated I pull the trigger. BANG…Is what I expected. But nothing came, just the miserable clunk of an empty magazine. Oh god damn you._  
_“Fu-“_  
_And then everything goes black._


	3. You know what they say about playing with fire...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Present day again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who made it this far xxx

Reluctantly, Wick struck his thumb on the pointed end of the case willing enough blood to cover his thumb before pressing it down into the depression. John closed it, reluctantly handing the coin back, which she pocketed. With slow ease, not wanting to alarm him, she withdrew a similar baroque casing from another pocket.

When it was her turn, she tried hard not the let the blood emitting from her thumb bother her, she could not mess this up now she earned his unwilling faith.

Her willingness to help him, seemingly without wanting anything in return was enough to ruffle  John who had effectively given his freedom to this mystery child, this girl who he did not trust in the slightest. But what was he to do? The honorable thing and just end it all, be with Helen, Jesus, what would she make of this all now?

Vigilantly, she flipped open the case and on the pointed end punctured her thumb, placing her eternal blood oath inside. With satisfaction that the deed was complete at last, she snapped it shut and gave it to him.

"What have you done?" He mumbled. Gingerly he accepted it and registered the forthcoming darkness. “We should go” he noted the eerie silence.

"One step at a time, John "

"Mr. Wick" he corrected again sternly.

She joined in with his readiness. "Of course. Let’s go" She signaled with her hand hurrying in her hiking boots down the park path towards the exit, her ponytail swinging, not bothering to check if he was behind her. She was either unaware or unfazed by the danger she was attracting. Before they knew it,they were both jogging side by side out the park just as John had done eleven hours earlier. 

But here he was, the infamous Baba Yaga, once again putting his life in the hands of a child.

At first it was a brisk walk then a jog before finally they ran side by side, unsure of what was to come as they crossed the park towards the gates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who made it this far xxx please stay tuned lovelies xxx


	4. Same old, same old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Help is just a ride away. Is the truth?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those following this, thank you so much, it means a lot and stay tuned xx

_John P.O.V_

“You didn’t have to do that” she says under her breath.

It’s been half an hour since the escape where we narrowly made it out alive.

When she had suddenly panicked and passed out I had no choice but to kill them. Death, or should I say, murder, was never the problem. The problem now was that Viggo will know a rat is among him, and when he finds out its me, god knows what will happen next.

I feel my nervous tremor abruptly return in both hands and try to keep them firmly on the steering wheel-glancing in the rear-view mirror for possible threats.

The rain pours down the window panes perfect for the atmosphere and silence zips through us again as I ignore her, thinking.

All through my days with the Tarasovs, I’d been wanting to leave the mob after being there for little over three years, the family of powerful New York City crime was beginning to grate on me. Viggo always had a rivalry with another gang. We had met in a bar where he’d slid up to me like a snake after witnessing me kill 3 men with a pencil. Later, I was hired. Two years back, I asked to leave the Mob for Helen wishing to enjoy retirement, maybe get lucky and have some tykes but Helen's illness changed everything, suddenly there was no time left to waste. And what did he do? He gave me an 'impossible task' to wipe out all gang members of the rival mob and I’d never have to fire a gun under his name again. That was sure to change now. The traffic shifts sluggishly whilst I concentrate on thinking this through.

Back in Viggo’s private camp out she took a good beating, with her knees fractured and head injury she shouldn’t be moving about right now but she must know hospital in this game was out of the question. She looked so much younger out in the open, frail body blueish pale and purple with marks. She had to be 17 at the least, Christ, what was he doing at 17? She had a good façade about her but John wasn't fooled. Whatever or whoever she was protecting would be safe with her that was for sure.

“Where are we going anyway?” she winced slightly adjusting in her seat holding her ribs watching her hands dye red.

When I had carried her to the car end the end she had been stone cold, she’d lost a lot of blood. I didn’t think she’d see another day, I don’t know what I would have done if she’d died.

“I know someone who can help” I gesture to her bruising legs with the hand I use to change gear as the traffic finally starts to move and we jolt forward.

“It’s not far”.

I had barely patched her up from the shabby first aid kit in the trunk of the car but my clumsy bandages were not improving the spilling blood and she’d need some pain relief. Though it was shallow of me, I found myself eyeing the leather seats hoping she hadn’t bled on them too much.

**_…_ **

_**P.O.V change:** _

His speed was alarming once the traffic cleared. A small part of me suspected he was trying to get shot of me as quickly as possible, still without explanation to his selfless act (probably better if I didn’t know). The tires squealed and I was propelled forward almost bashing my head- again. The driver continued in this pace, the car racing away from the outskirts of the city to the centre, the open window’s cool breeze the lights of the city’s skyscrapers and night life projecting off the window panes, my head thumped against the racket. The deep roar kept my eyes wide open while I felt my stabbing sensation reduce to nothing as I swear he switched gears. I clutched the leather seats digging my nails into the material. I was in for the ride of my life.

**…**

_**P.O.V change:** _

Aurelio put his hands on his hips as soon as he’d seen John arrive in his Chop Shop. His eyebrows had shot up further at his company, a girl – what was she 18? 19?- draped across him in a human crunch carry. She had hair fuzzy with sweat and clothing stained deep red and torn looking as though she’d survived an apocalypse. He gave John a quizzing look. Christ, he’d only just cleaned up from their last meeting.

“I need some towels, bandages and rubbing alcohol” Wick announced dipping his shoulder so she could sit on a stool in the corner.

“Nice to see you too” Aurelio mumbled turning away from the girl lowering herself weakly to the shelves in the back room. Now where had he seen that kit? He’d just began to dust off the box when Wick slid up to him in the privacy of the back room. And there he was thinking he’d get off work early, go home for once and actually relax without threatening phone calls or last-minute jobs. As if.

“I need some help”.

Aurelio let out a sigh cracking open the kit and digging around for the required items. “Don’t you always?” but secretly, he was just glad his friend was okay after all he’d been through. He hadn’t seen John in a while, last he knew , his wife was sick and then three days ago he gets a call from the retired assassin, confirming her death bordering on tears. They hadn’t spoken since.

People in this game came and went, but it seemed Wick was forever, that had to mean something. He hoped Helen’s death would change him for the better now that he was finally out of the mob and free to effectively live his own life, maybe he would find someone else later, have a couple of kids, who knows, he wasn’t old yet- but he never said this aloud. Technically, Wick shouldn’t have been standing there, talking to him now if he was out, but since when did John Wick listen to the rules?

Aurelio handed each of the items over to John who shook his head.

“No, with something else,” he looked at something behind Aurelio and continued in a lower voice “I may need… somewhere to lie-low” Aurelio jerked a thumb at the door, inclining his head “for the girl?” he let out a low whistle but acknowledged the man’s straight face.

“What happened to her anyway?” Aurelio folded his arms, he couldn’t wait to hear this one.

“Beaten up for information, some woman Viggo wanted found”.

“Viggo?” he rose an eyebrow shifting his weight “I’m guessing she didn’t talk?” he peered behind him to see the girl in the chair squinting as she shifted her legs in front of her, hair flopping forwards. “She’s so young, what’s she doing in this game?” .

Both men had time to reflect on their own teenage selves, sticking out like a sore thumb in school, moving onto the marines. No, it was no life.

John shrugged to both questions, Aurelio didn’t need to know everything yet.

On the morning after Helen’s death, Winston had called John to warn him his safety may be compromised now Helen was gone, the whole reason he left the underworld. Winston also told him that the Tarasov’s had snatched a good associate of the Continental from her hotel room. John agreed on the off to help, he owed him that much. When John had got there, peaking into the windows that over-looked to looked the girl strapped to a chair, half-dead, it suddenly occurred to him that maybe this was all a trap to lure him in again to the world he had tried to leave him behind. The world needed more Johns out there, less sloppy assassins and more commitment. 

Perhaps Viggo was under the impression that the guest had connections to John. Though she looked eerily familiar, John concluded that there were no strings attached, but helped her anyway.

Now he followed Aurelio out to the front of the shop hearing him shooing his pissed workers away and pulling down the roll up door after looking outside left and right.

Aurelio wasted no time getting to the point, pulling out needles, threads and scissors to her horror. Her faced turned white(r)when he politely asked her to lift up her shirt to access the wounds.

There was so much blood it stuck to her skin like a wet leaf against a window.

She looked at John in almost approval and upon a curt nod, she’d begrudgingly lifted the corner of the right side, exposing no more than her ribs and massacre of wounds all shapes and sizes. She’d surprised them all with the first prick of the needle letting out a yelp.

“I thought you said she killed people” Aurelio muttered with string in his mouth as he worked. He could count ever sharp intake of breath she took with every puncture.

She snorted, “Killed people?” looking from one to the other “I’ve never killed in my life” as both men exchanged glances. What the hell? Who gets into the Continental without a few bodies behind them? Nothing was adding up.

When it was over, and she was patched up well each of them breathed sigh of relief. Aurelio had successfully managed to wrap her abdomen in bandaging; pressing here and there to ensure it wasn't too tight and fit her well. Her arm twitched once or twice but never attempted to push him away or demand that he stopped the procedure. “Does it feel better?” he searched her face wondering what a man as powerful as Tarasov, the leader of the Russian side of The High Table, wanted in a mere teenager. Nothing good of course

She nodded and broke into  her first small smile in a week. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stay tuned my dudes!

**Author's Note:**

> You've made it this far, thank you so much for reading and please leave a Kudos.


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